Matthew Foor Poems

I feel it setting in again

Like the common cold invading again
...

Sorrow for those who cannot observe and interpret written word

Why sorrow?
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It is its own type of torture

The loss of words I suffer from
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Voices float around the room
landing on the lobes of my ears

Discernable and confusing
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Last of the coatless days
Finished are the constant rays
of sun and smiles
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Flutters pierce
Paunch

Despondent face
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Relapse collapsed
Beautiful bliss
Boiled down
Special kiss
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Permeate
Stench seeps

Exasperate me, why dont you
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What once was a slumber
Now Rebuked
Aimless wind
Throwing razor blades at my face
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On the day we first met
I will never forget
The endless tattoos that she bore
The fire in her voice
...